Erode : Implode
by Discourteous
Summary: A decayed mind will eventually erode and crumble as all empires will fall due to their own implosion; but this Empire is back with a vengeance and nothing will stop his reign of terror. This was the final Game Over.
1. Chapter 1

**Spectrophobia – The fear of mirrors or one's reflection.**

Arthur Kirkland sat tiredly in his home. The smell of instant tea and smoke said a lot about his current condition. England was most definitely not well. With all the rioting in London his health had deteriorated to the point that his chest constricted every few minutes sending him into spasms of pain. He sighed as he absent-mindedly watched flickers of images of the London riots on the news. He remembered a time when a small riot would be nothing but a mere itch and rebellion would be crushed in seconds. When he was the famous 'Empire of Britannia' he was the world super-power.

It was pathetic. No. _He_ was pathetic. The loss of his empire had thawed through his intimidating exterior and corroded his pride. What was he now? Just island that was cursed with rain? Or maybe a sentimental old fool who was stuck in the past and not to keen on moving.

The rain outside, as if responding to his depressing thoughts seemed to harden. He was cut off abruptly by the ring tone of his phone; however he made no attempt to pick it up. 'Rule, Britannia' blasted throughout the echoing and decaying mansion. The mansion was old and eroding just like Arthur.

He found a comfortable solitude in the notes as 'Rule, Britannia' poured out of the small, metal device.

"When Britain first, at heaven's command,

Arose from out the azure main,

Arose, arose, arose from out the azure main,

This was the charter, the charter of the land,

And guardian Angels sang this strain:"

He lip-synced the words as the familiar tune blocked out the voice of depression.

Rule Britannia!

Britannia rule the waves

Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.

He visibly cringed. He remembered the time when Britannia really did rule the waves. He remembered every second, every breath every glorious battle.

Rule Britannia!

Britannia rules the waves.

Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.

The nations, not so blest as thee,

Must in their turn, to tyrants fall,

Must in their turn, to tyrants fall,

While thou shalt flourish, shalt flourish great and free,

The dread and envy of them all.

He remembered when his nation prospered and people grovelled before his feet. It was at that time he held the world in his hand.

Rule Britannia!

Britannia rules the waves.

Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.

Rule Britannia!

Britannia rules the waves.

Britons never, never, never shall be slaves

He also remembered how he let the world slip through his hands. He found that his kingdom stood on pillars of salt and sand. Everything collapsed, blasting him into the depths of oblivion. His power. _HIS_ power, taken from him. He may as well of shot himself. A captain must go down with his ship and die a slave to his pride.

"You used to be so big…" Arthur's head snapped around. Did he just hear…? His brain blanked out on him as he came face to face with… a mirror? Arthur swore he never placed such a thing in the front room, but there it stood, silver framed and decorated with cherubs.

The truth was that Arthur was ever so slightly spectrophobic. It wasn't the physical mirror but the thing _inside_ the mirror. It was one of the few things that made Arthur Kirkland nervous. It took a lot to make him nervous.

In the mirror staring back at him was an empty shell, a shed skin that a snake leaves behind to rot. He stares at dulled green eyes that once used to be like freshly cut emeralds. The strain of time and the loss of power showed. Back then he was taller and well built with eyes that could quite literally glow. He could spit acid if he wanted to and no one and nothing was above him.

He wished he would rot away quietly. Take a burden off the world's shoulders, he had no real ties. Only a web of lies that were weaved around him. Alfred secretly hated him along with the other twelve _ex_-colonies. He hissed out the word 'ex' as if it carried a disease.

Francis only existed to mock him; he only stayed by his side to watch his demise in glee.

His own brothers would gladly wait for his death to take power over the United Kingdom.

Without Arthur in the picture everything was just _better_. No more grumpy, stuffy Englishman to yell at meetings, no one to object to America's incessant ramblings and no one to disapprove of Francis' behaviour.

He stared at the polished surface of the glass as he found himself drawn closer. The mirror stood there silently observing him. It looked at him um-phased what was there to be scared of?

It was as if the mirror was mocking him.

No one mocked Captain Arthur Kirkland.

**But you're not him…**

It jeered at him. It would be sneering at him if it actually had a face.

CRASH! SHATTER!

Arthur panted rapidly unable to stand the mirrors mocking any longer. It's fragments lay on the floor, but it had seemed to multiply and now there were a dozen faces sneering and mocking him.

He rested his head on his knees and shook violently.

_It's only you in this house. That's it. No one else can speak because there is no one else._

**Do you not see? Fool, I am right here. **

It was at this point Arthur had given up on ignoring the voice as it became more and more insistent.

"Sink with your ship. Die with it, like you should've done." It repeated the mantra endlessly until Arthur became immune to the sound.

There it sat. His salvation. In the form of a revolver sat an angel. It smiled at him and urged him on.

"Go on, Arthur." It was a mere mumble of words but Arthur complied.

He pointed it towards his head. He had no Idea how many shots there were in it, so he decided to play Russian roulette with himself.

He placed it on the left side of his skull and pulled the trigger and to his amusement nothing happened, he switched it over to the other side of his head, Cheshire grin still in place, he pulled the trigger; still no response. He pulled the revolver to the left side of his temple as a shattering crack tore through the silence. Brain tissue coated the beige walls in blood and an ominous amount of said liquid. The blood pooled out of his ears, but the brit found him self full conscious but feeling no pain. Or was the pain blocked out with his laughter? He couldn't quite tell.

It was at this point in time that the angel spoke to him again.

"You have the power of words, deliver your final message" it said with sweetly-sick honey dripping from every word.

Arthur seemed to know what the so-called 'angel' wanted him to do.

Using the plod that had pooled onto the fur rug he wrote the words clearly on the wall:

** R**

Droplets of blood oozed from the crudely printed letters as he felt himself drift away. He had signed a deal with the devil now. There was no turning back.


	2. Chapter 2

The metallic tang of blood was the first thing Arthur registered. Head spinning and brain shifting into gear he looked around his current surroundings.

An endless plane of black made up the floor and there seemed to be a dim light supplying him with blurry sight.

In the heart of the expanse, around five metres away from Arthur sat an empty throne. He steadied himself as he stood, thoroughly disorientated. His mind seemed to have abandoned any rational thinking in favour of remembering how to breathe. He took a few sharp intakes of precious air before focusing onto the chair.

There was an audible crack as the gold paint peeled off at a rapid pace. Arthur stared in awe. The chair was aging in front of his eyes at an alarming pace.

The once pristine velvet cushions were torn slightly and the tears were increasing, the oak was rotting away and the golden back of the chair began to lose its lustre.

The creaking seemed to fade away and in front of Arthur stood the ruined throne. A throne that was at one time his. He found his feet almost automatically inching towards the throne. He found a steady yet sloe beat as he approached the throne.

With the utmost care he placed himself on top of the throne and stared out at the plane. A distorted vision seemed to flash through his mind as the voice of the angel spoke.

_Kill them. Kill them all and take back what was once yours. _

Arthur would listen to the angel. The angel was always right.

He found himself hurtling back into reality, if that was the appropriate word.

At his feet stood a pillow, made of the same worn velvet like his throne. On it was placed a crown. No normal crown, encrusted with jewels and made of metal however; in its place stood a crown of thorns.

Thick, intertwining vines displayed sharpened, venomous thorns, they looked painful but at the same time, they too mocked Arthur.

_I dare you. _

Those were the only words it took for Arthur to determinedly thrust the crown upon his head. Trickles of blood decorated his face as they formed tracks.

It was then he realized the blood was not from his forehead but his _eyes_. Arthur Kirkland cried blood.

**- –**

There was the sound crackling flames that alerted Mathew Williams that something was not right. He stared at the Kirkland Residence long and hard, all the while clutching, Kumajiro as he braved the decision to go in.

The representation of Canada found no answer as he rapped on the oak doors.

The scent of smoke seeped into the walls and the through the chimney as Canada nervously edged closer.

He felt his heart plummeted as panic began to rise. In front of him lay a very dead Arthur Kirkland.

He lay motionless on the floor as the beige walls were covered in a disconcerting scarlet of the most ominous shade.

Everything was as quite as a grave except for the sound of something festering and thriving in the farthest corner and by far the darkest corner.

Canada turned, albeit shakily as the shadows seemed to clump together forming a remotely human form. The shadows slowly began to define themselves into human features.

The little colour in Canada's face drained away immediately as the shadow moulded itself into a replica of the man that was currently lying in the floor in a pool of blood.

Identical acid coloured green eyes glared at the Canadian with a hint of something Canada couldn't quite place. It was a glint, it was so _old_ yet so _new _and _foreign _it was goddamn intimidating, it physically made him tremble and made a cold sweat break forth, but gentleness laced in between the cracks. Who on earth was this?

It was in a less than a second that Canada found the fake England merely inches from him. There was a low hushed whisper id his left ear. This England was taller and had a more masculine build.

"You will be the messenger for my new world. I _will take back what was once mine_. Tell them that" Canada swore that there was a taste of whisky on his breath but most unfortunately, he had no time to react.

The replica un-sheathed one of the many ornate daggers from his belt and with glee dragged it down the Canadian's arms, thus rendering them useless. His beloved bear flopped to the ground uselessly as it stood and watched in horror as its owners arms were mutilated until they were covered in red.

Arthur moved the dagger and away from his arms and focused on his back. He dug the knife in deeply as he carved out the familiar shape, ignoring Canada's shouts of horror and bouts of spasms of pain.

On the bare of his back he carved he carved the intricate crest of the royal family; the lion standing proud and the stallion imitating the lion's pose, the shield stood steadfast in the middle and at the very top sat the crown, shining brightly and with great pride. Instead of the usual French motto the replica had altered the words so they read in his native tongue:

**Long Live Britannia**

That would be the name of his new empire. He was the empire of Britannia. The age of empires had risen again from the depths of hell.

**- –**


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.**

Canada shivered and trembled uncontrollably as the replica England, dubbed 'Britannia', paced around England's sitting room. The television was set to BBC news. It was almost as if…Britannia was expecting something? He didn't have to wait long to find out. The news reporter's face flashed onto the screen as Britannia smirked with both triumph and malice painted onto his face.

"We interrupt with breaking news! The world has been thrown into uproar by an extremist group who call them selves, the 'Britannian Army'. They have invaded Canadian lands and have taken over more than half of the Country. Their motives are unclear yet we have a message that has become viral all over the world."

The screen flashed to a large room, devoid of people. It appeared to resemble a warehouse but any details were vague or un-identifiable. A generic voice, obviously produced by a computer spoke in monotone.

"We will revive the Britannian Empire. We are all-powerful. We will rule the world again. We do not forgive nor do we forget. You are next" the generic voice cut off abruptly as the screen switched back to the news reporter. She looked uneasy as she spoke hesitantly.

"The United Nations has confirmed that they will not hesitate to declare war against 'Britannia' and those who side with them. It has been confirmed that Britannia has claimed Canadian land as Britannian Soil and is now advancing on French Territory"

She put her hand to her headpiece as buzzing could be heard. She swallowed as she faced the screen and broke out into swears.

"I'm sorry, I can't report this utter bullshit to the world." She promptly stood up and left as the BBC logo screen flashed to life on the screen.

Britannia laughed in the face of the TV as he stalked up towards the place Canada sat shivering next to the freshly bandaged England. He felt something twinge in his chest as breathing became painful and his head felt like it was splitting in half.

Britannia knelt down to his eye-level and smirked at him venomously.

"Welcome to the family, _Area 1_." He hissed like a snake as he yanked Canada upwards by the hair, startling the bloody and bruised Kumajiro in his hands.

"Oh, I wouldn't want you having company now, would I?" he said glaring at Kumajiro. If looks could kill Kumajiro would be dead thrice.

Britannia grabbed his dagger and before Canada could scream, react, fucking _breathe_, Kumajiro lay on the floor with his throat cut open, hideously familiar to Arthur's predicament. It was then that Canada gave into the welcoming darkness of unconsciousness.

**- –**

The Nations of the world had assembled for a compulsory emergency meeting. Everyone was serious and quiet, even Feliciano and Gilbert. They were here to discuss one thing in particular; World War III. It was an inevitable event now that the entire World was being threatened. Ludwig was stiffer than ever as he called for attention.

"It has come to our attention that due to the turn of events that we… we may have to initiate World War 3. As I am sure you are aware the world is threatened by a force who calls themselves 'Britannia'. These rebels have already earned the military force of two nations. We are to discuss any leads we may have to Britannia and any ways we can form alliances to prepare for Britannia's inevitable attack." Ludwig finished as the entire room burst into shouts and murmurs.

"So, which country supplied Britannia with weapon, Huh?" seethed South Korea as he glared at his Northern brother.

"So you think I gave the bastards power to start World War 3? It's most likely to be you! You're a little heathen!" North Korea spat back.

China and America had to restrain the nations as Ludwig scrambled for attention.

"Everybody calm down!" yelped Ludwig futilely before deciding that this meeting would possibly end in making the war worse. Before he could dismiss the meeting the TV used for presentations that was placed behind Ludwig flickered on.

"We have breaking news! We bring you immediate coverage as the Queen of the United Kingdom and Northern Ireland, prepares to declare war with the world! The United Kingdom has officially formed an alliance itself with Britannia; we have no word from her secretaries except for that she believes it is for the good of her nation, we now go live to Buckingham palace"

The screen flickered to the grand balcony of Buckingham Palace as the angry yells and general uproar died down as the authority inducing figure of Queen Elizabeth the Second immerged from the vast expanse of the palace. She waved formally as she stood tall and proud, with her sons and daughters by her side.

"It has come to my attention that the world is threatened by a force known as Britannia; a supposedly unknown external that has deep links with the government of our blessed nation. The world is on the verge of war and it has come to the time in which we must pick sides to ensure our survival. I believe we have chosen the right path. We will become the homeland of Britannia. A new dawn of time and a new era shall commence. Any nations who have sense and do not wish for violence may surrender to Britannia peacefully, otherwise force will be used. I hereby declare the United Kingdom of Britain and Northern Ireland is at war with all those who oppose our new empire, Britannia. God bless us all" she finished as the large gathering erupted with different reactions, some rejoicing, shouting, fighting and rebelling but most were probably overwhelmed by the shock, they were at **war **for goodness sake!

A gunshot run through the air, as a man clothed in Victorian-style clothing grinned a rather lopsided grin and acid eyes glowered at the crowd. It was then the man spoke borrowed words that from then on would be renewed with eternal life.

"_The sun never sets in the empire of Britannia because God doesn't trust us in the dark"_

**- –**


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.**

Britannia's eyes glanced over the map in front of him as he casually sipped his tea. The map to most people was made of a plethora of colours ranging from the green marshlands to the ice blue of the Antarctic; but to Britannia the world was in black and white.

He saw only the overwhelming black of the New Britannian Empire and the cowardly white of the unconquered lands, known as the rest of the world.

He sneered to himself; he would delve the world into his own little realm of shadows.

**- –**

Canada shivered as he felt English winter seep into his bones.

Beside him lay an unconscious England who had yet to wake up. His usual pristine mop of blonde hair was matted and the specks of maroon were splattered here and there, his blood having lost its carmine colour.

Canada was confined to a small mansion in the remote fields of the New Forest. He had contemplated escape but Britannia had thought of this and positioned a wall of steel around the perimeter. Canada was rather uncertain why he was being kept prisoner but he knew that Britannia had something in mind for him.

Something he did not want to find out anytime soon.

**- –**

Japan sighed as he sipped his green tea and casually stared at the falling cherry blossoms. The country had been thrown into war within months and the borders of Japan were being mercilessly attacked.

Men, women, children…everyone knew of Britannia's wrath, he would spare nobody and nothing.

Britannia had used Canada as a base for isolating internet communication and in turn taking down Global communications however Japan had managed to secure internet links to the governing bodies of the world. They had managed to create a super-firewall which Britannia had yet to break. Japan knew very well that this put him in much danger, it was obvious. If Britannia were to take Japan communications would stop and the fight-back would cease continuation.

He shifted his weight as he pulled out the laptop from underneath his futon.

He flicked the on switch as it whirred into life. He opened the Governing network cache as he reviewed the next steps of the fight back. America had formed an alliance with Russia and Germany along with Italy, Spain, France and the Baltic nations forming the known to most as the ABA or Anti-Britannian Alliance.

Most of the world was hysterical over the dawn of World War III. Many people had taken to protest but Britannia would kill of any rebellion in its land within an instant.

A spy network from within Britannia named 'GEMINI', which consisted of 7 university students and 12 ex-SAS members, were openly executed as a show of power on the TV screens of the world. Every television screen, mobile phone, electronic billboard and every type of device that could stream a video showed the live execution of GEMINI. Britannia was using fear to control the world and it was working.

Japan stood up as his stomach twisted uneasily. He decided that he would fight back.

Japan had been harbouring and advancing death machines in the case of war and now was the time to use the abominations. This was war.

**- –**

Britannia slunk into the shadows of urban Japan, blending in perfectly with the orderly chaos. The streets were lined with Japan's citizens queuing up for rations. He didn't understand. If they were only to join his empire such needless fighting could be avoided but then he wouldn't be true to his character. What would they put in the history books? Would he be another great warmonger like the Prussian and the other great empires before him?

He sneered in a twisted form of mock-glee, as he glided through the petite alleyways. People gave him odd glances and uneasy looks as his white military coat billowed behind him and an array of daggers hung from his belt, to be overshadowed by the highly ornate rapier on his hip. He would add Japan to his collection of war trophies.

**- –**

Japan fastened the handgun into its holster as he placed his uniform on top. He picked up the katana that lay on its stand and placed it in its scabbard. He calmly picked it up and made his way out of the Honda residence.

Japan's skyscrapers melded into mountains of steel and iron and the cities showed there true beauty in a fleeting goodbye.

War planes emblazoned with the Britannian Empire's crest circled the capital, Tokyo like a vulture circling prey.

Japan could feel all his resolve withering as the defences at sea crumbled. His lower abdomen screamed in protest as he stumbled forwards. He grabbed his katana and unsheathed it clashed against something of similar design. Britannia's blonde hair fluttered in the wind as smouldering green eyes met steely brown ones. Another clash of metal against metal as the recoil of the hit sent them to opposite ends of the dingy alleyway.

Using his elegant parkour skills Japan scaled the wall of a flat and landed on both feet at the roof of the structure. Britannia followed suit as an elegant game of cat and mouse began.

He lunged at the petite man and landed a hit through his shoulder dislocating his left arm as he yelped and let out a howl of pain. Japan however was not an easy opponent.

In quick retaliation he swerved to his right and planted his sword deep into Britannia's stomach. The empire trembled slightly as he attempted to make a shaky stand. He quickly reached for the handgun on his left hip; however Japan saw through the foul-play and kicked his hand away from him, possibly breaking his wrist and at the same time pulling one of the muscles in his shoulder as it bent to the side at a rather awkward angle. Britannia bit through his lip as not to yell in pain as he faced Japan, malicious green ayes attempting to kill merely by glaring at his opponent. He snarled as a feral grin reappeared on his face.

"So the mouse thinks he has the cat cornered?" he let out a distorted laugh that rung through out the sullen, ominous alleyways of Japan. Japan paled at the sight of the insane man. He had a blade going through his stomach and he was laughing?

Britannia grabbed his other arm and with monstrous strength twisted it back into place with a sickening crunch of bone and broken flesh.

Japan pulled the katana out of Britannia's stomach as a sickening realization dawned upon him. Britannia was not a nation, superpower of world power. Britannia was a conqueror of days gone and past. A nation such as him would do no damage.

The logical answer was to run and that Japan did. He pulled out the blade from the England-look-a-like's stomach and turned to run. There was the sound of flesh upon flesh as Japan stopped in his tracks. His chest constricted as agony washed throughout him.

He looked down towards the pain, his vision blurring. A gloved leather hand was holding onto his heart, literally.

Britannia's hand constricted the organ as Japan went limp.

"Welcome to the family, Area 02" he sneered leaving a path of red in his wake.

**- –**

**I'm not dead! Neither is this story! I've been moving and have no access to a desktop computer but only this crummy laptop and my kindle (which really isn't suitable). **


End file.
